


you can see it with the lights out

by hansoom



Category: Oh My Girl (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansoom/pseuds/hansoom
Summary: Yoobin’s first impression is that this is going to be a bloodbath. (pd101 au)





	you can see it with the lights out

* * *

  ** **WEEK ONE:** ** _What were you thinking when you stepped into the hall?_

* * *

 

  
Yoobin’s first impression is that this is going to be a bloodbath.  
  
She’d figured out as much once she’d seen the triangular chair formation, stacked up layer on layer, waiting for someone unsuspecting to misstep. Yebin had tugged at her sleeve, urging them to choose seats in the lower rungs, and she'd pulled them up away a little higher, away from craning necks and curious eyes.  
  
Of course, this isn’t an answer that will win her any favours, so she quirks her lips into a thoughtful frown, shuttling her gaze away from the camera lens.  
  
_It’s important to create an image of vulnerability_ , her CEO had advised. __But not so much that they eat you up. You can do that, right?__  
  
A glint from the camera prompts her to look back up, and the PD is still staring at her carefully. What's different is that there’s a small, encouraging smile on his face. She's the 20th person they're interviewing, with 80 more to go, and it must be tiring to hear the same thing over and over again. She places her hands by her side in a way that she hopes is non-confrontational, and pulls into the smile she's practiced a million times.  
  
“It’s a lot of beautiful and talented people,” she pauses, sitting up straighter. “I hope there's something special they see in me.”  
  
She frowns. The director's cut the tape by then, but it feels unsatisfactory, somehow, that she doesn't know what to say. He offers her a hand as she steps carefully off the plastic block, the metal legs of the chair rattling behind her.

-

  
For the first evaluations, they do __Somehow__  by DIA. It's not a difficult song, and Binnie feels sweat gathering on her neck as she runs through the comments the previous group - some girls from MMO entertainment - had gotten. _What,_ _exactly,_ Cheetah had asked, _was that supposed to show off?_  
  
The weight lifts when Yoobin gets a solid B. The judges pick on her uneven breathing and how she can be sluggish on the beat at the faster parts of the song, but they seem suitably pleased.  
  
Yebin falls into D. Kahi slides her hand up and down her mic before placing it onto the table, then picks it back up again as if to revel in Yebin's misery.  
  
"You _just_ missed F, you know," she adds, giving Yebin a pointed look, before placing the mic back on the table surface. The other coaches are shuffling through their papers. Yoobin reckons they'll cut that out, and Kahi wasn't being - unkind, exactly. Just exacting.  
  
Still, Yebin seems immediately to cave in upon herself, and Yoobin has to resist the urge to wrap an arm around Yebin’s shoulder to pull her closer. This isn’t company evaluations anymore - it’s something bigger, and crueler, and harder to navigate. They wait there for a breath for further instructions before bowing their way off stage.  
  
Whatever dissatisfaction Yoobin might have felt at missing the highest mark is swallowed by the weight of Yebin’s expression as they make their way down the side of the stage. Yebin stumbles into the comfort of the room behind the curtains, drawing them closed and into privacy. Yoobin is keenly aware of the cameras that continue to mark their movements, but Yebin seems to forget.  
  
“Hey,” she says, cradling Yebin’s face. The other girl tries to hold in a sob, but it spills out anyway as she tips her head onto Yoobin’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Yebin mumbles, into the fabric of her shirt, and Yoobin lets out a surprised laugh, arms curling around Yebin's back  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For leaving you alone," Yebin ekes out. The red camera light blinks at her from across the room. Yoobin turns her face to press her cheek against Yebin's shoulder.  
  
  
  
When they get back to the hall, Yebin's eyes are still red, the D pasted in big font over her chest.  
  
In the meantime, three trainees from WM entertainment have taken the stage. Yoobin vaguely recalls the boy group that their company manages - semi successful, expanding into individual activities in recent years. One of them starred in a big drama recently.  
  
It's an interesting selection. One looks assured, another blank, and the third - standing on the furthest right in a dark blue shirt - looks almost angry. She is so beautiful that Yoobin can’t help staring, eyes trained on her face projected on the big screen. Yoobin assesses them and wonders how she and Yebin looked like to the others. Inoffensive, probably.  
  
“Hello, we are trainees from WM Entertainment,” they chorus. The first girl identifies herself as Cha Yoonji, the second as Shin Hyejin, and the third, with a bright voice that surprises Yoobin, Kim Jiho.  
  
“That’s quite a masculine name,” Jea comments, after Jiho introduces herself, and Yoobin watches Jiho’s face break into a cautious smile. “Not meant to offend, of course, it’s a wonderful name.”  
  
Everything here is unfamiliar, and Yoobin simply can’t tell if there’s any barb in Jea’s words. Still, Jiho seems to blank out for the briefest of moments before she dives back into it, shaking her head as she smiles, wide, looking towards the floor.  
  
“Thank you,” Jiho says, finally. “My parents put a lot of thought into it.”  
  
“Well,” Kahi brings her hands together. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

-

  
__Pick Me__ blares at exactly 4:30 a.m. Yoobin is rolling up her socks into piles when it starts, and she looks down at the pajamas she’s clothed in. It's blue, peppered with little drawings of Doraemon. Yebin had gotten it for her birthday - Yebin who must be rolling out of her bed right now, stumbling into someone in her dorm room.  
  
“What’s going on?” Seunghee, her roommate from Chuncheon, has come back from pacing the hallways. Someone turns on the lights.  
  
Yoobin shrugs. Her hands shake even though her voice doesn't. “Let’s wait for the announcement?”  
  
_Trainees, report to the common square in 10 minutes. Any latecomers will be harshly dealt with._  
  
Shiah, their other roommate, flops onto the floor from her bed, rubbing at her eyes blearily.  
  
“You can’t be serious.”  
  
Yoobin grabs her shirt from the closet, unbuttoning the one she has on as she heads for the changing room.  
  
“Get up, unnie,” Yoobin urges, reaching for Shiah’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go.”  
  
  
  
At the common area, Yoobin spots Yebin’s head bobbing along in the sea of people, her green sweater loose-fitting on her frame. The sun is bright enough that Yoobin can't look at her directly, and Yebin is far away and distracted enough that she won't catch Yoobin's eye easily. They haven’t been able to talk in days, mostly stealing time during lunch break and before bed.  
  
Yoobin is relieved, now, to see that she’s doing well, stretching and laughing with the other green sweaters.  
  
What’s surprising is that Yebin drags another girl by the arm as they laugh, and it takes a while for Yoobin to place her without the dark eye-liner and red lips, an open smile across her face.

-

  
On the fifth day, they give them back their phones. Yoobin almost cries in relief until they say _only ten minutes_ , upon which her hand closes so tight around the phone she nearly drags the staff's fingers along with it.

She dials the number with shaky fingers.  
  
When her mother picks up, she slinks into the corner of the room, face pressed into the wall. It looks stupid, of course. Unhinged and strange, but Yoobin turned out to be far less strong than she’d hoped for herself.  
  
Another disappointment to add to the list.  
  
It’s difficult and confusing to hear her mother’s voice. She knows it’s only for ten minutes, and it feels too long and too short for what she wants to say, so she just keeps silent until her mother says _Yoobin? Are you there? Dear?_  
  
“I miss you,” she says, finally. Her voice is dry and quiet, barely picked up by the mic clipped to the collar of her shirt.  
  
She wants this to herself, at least, if nothing else. This moment of reprieve, away from prying eyes and ears, but even this they must record, and document, and spin.

-

  
When they watch the first episode together, Yoobin’s conversation comes out anyway. They’ve added subtitles to it for how softly everything went, and Yoobin wonders why they included it at all. It’s good for her, surely, but she’s nothing special for them to treat her like this. She __wants__  to be, sure, but this - feels. Undeserved. All of this, the votes and buzz and the support she's getting from people she's spoken a word to once in her life.  
  
After her clip is Jiho’s. The green sweater is unusually large on her, which is when Yoobin realizes how tall Jiho isn't. They had passed each other in the hallway only once, Jiho carrying a small bag of toiletries as Yoobin slumped back to her room. Yoobin had smiled - reflex - and Jiho's eyes widened before she quickened her footsteps.  
  
Jiho calls her mom first, then her dad. Both dead lines. “They must be working,” she explains, to the staff off-screen, eyes darting around in something like a daze. Yoobin catches the slightest quiver of her lips before she dials a third number.  
  
“Yah,” the voice says, the moment it picks up, and Yoobin watches Jiho’s shoulders sink in relief as she leans back into the chair. She knows exactly how it must be - it's like an oasis, the sound of something familiar.  
  
“Unnie,” Jiho says, in response. "Hi." Her voice is uneven.  
  
“Mom and dad went on a campaign for you,” the voice on the other line says. It’s calmer than Jiho’s but still as bright. “Printing flyers and stuff.”  
  
Jiho turns her back on the camera at this point. Yoobin feels like she should look away now, to spare Jiho this moment of privacy. They’ve amplified the sobbing sounds, and when Yoobin looks back at Jiho, she’s leaning forward, an unreadable expression on her face.  
  
_Oh_ , Yoobin thinks, when she catches the ghost of a smile.

 

 

* * *

 **WEEK THREE:** _Who do you want on your team?_

* * *

 

  
Yoobin doesn’t work her way into A. She tries hard, of course, but there are limits to what she can do and she's never been valued for her jaw-dropping abilities.  
  
But Seunghee does. And Seunghee picks her first. Yoobin moves forward quickly next to Seunghee, looking away from the faces that are still waiting for someone to be kind. Bad Girl Good Girl is a difficult song, but Yoobin can carry the lower notes. She's not undeserving.  
  
Then Seunghee picks Jiho.  
  
Yoobin’s fingers find Seunghee’s instantly and squeeze once. _What are you doing?_  
  
Seunghee squeezes back, eyes pinned on Jiho's approaching form. _Trust me._  Seunghee is ambitious, but she has warm eyes. From what Yoobin can gather, her ambition has limits. She's ethical, if you will. The choice sits uncomfortably in Yoobin's stomach, opening a question that Yoobin had thought she knew the answer to.  
  
Jiho walks over, the confusion on her face quickly fading into something that Yoobin can’t tease out. She settles beside Yoobin, their shoulders almost brushing. Yoobin goes stock still waiting for the last member. _Pick Yebin_ , she thinks, but Seunghee won’t. Realistically, she doesn’t have space for another person from F.  
  
“Kim Mihyun,” Seunghee says, after a moment, and Yoobin lets out a shaky breath.

Jiho turns her head away.

-

  
Seunghee is as good of an all-rounder as they could hope for. Their center is obvious.  
  
Until it’s not.  
  
“We’ll pick Jiho,” Seunghee doesn't say as much as she announces, moments after they’ve settled into a circle. Jiho’s eyes widen at this, and she balks immediately, legs curling up to her chest. Any other reaction would be unacceptable, and all four of them know it.  
  
Seunghee leans forward against Jiho’s protests to paste the center sticker on her chest, and brings her hands happily together.  
  
“We need someone with that kind of energy,” she says, looking pointedly at Yoobin and Mihyun. Mihyun seems like she’d like to say something before she leans back again. To Yoobin’s knowledge, Mihyun and Seunghee had known each other long before this. Seunghee had assured her that she was to be trusted.  
  
Jiho remains a question mark. When she looks down at the center badge on her chest, what Kahi said about Jiho after their performance flits into Yoobin’s mind.  
  
_Can’t sing very well, rapping is even worse, dancing is average. What have you been doing in your four years of training, Jiho?_  
  
Red lips and pale ones framed within a smile that Yoobin can't seem to forget.  
  
Seunghee’s voice snaps her back to the present.  
  
“Everyone good?”  
  
Seunghee’s smiling now, the kind of confident grin that Yoobin needs to get through the next 48 hours. Seunghee's got them.  
  
“Okay,” Yoobin says, and it sounds brighter than she’d meant for it to be.

-

  
At night, Seunghee climbs out of her top bunk and settles herself next to Yoobin on the bed.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick your friend,” Seunghee says. “It’s just that - you saw Jiho’s position - on the voting and everything. Her face alone gets her to 10th place.”

 _You shouldn't need to explain yourself_ , Yoobin doesn't say, because she's still carrying a bitterness that's settled within her lungs.  
  
Seunghee looks tired under the moonlight, her features rearranging into quiet apology. Seunghee has been trying her whole life for this, and she'd been upset at a strategic move. A move that'd help Yoobin too. The tightness in her chest dissipates.

Yoobin moves to place a hand over Seunghee's.  
  
“It’s fine,” Yoobin tells her. “Don’t be sorry.”  
  
It really is. This is how the competition works, and if Jiho is beautiful, they should use it to their advantage.  
  
She doesn’t get much sleep that night.

-

  
Practice is hell.  
  
Jiho mucks up one move for the fifth time, and Seunghee stops the music abruptly. Yoobin gets up from where she was on one knee. Their evaluation is tomorrow, and Yoobin can already _feel_ Teacher Bae Yoonjung tearing into them.  
  
Seunghee reaches an arm out for Jiho, who's pushing herself up from off the flood. “Shall we take a break?”  
  
Jiho nods, face red with embarrassment, and stalks out into the hallway without a second glance. Yoobin catches a _washroom_ and _be back_ before the door slams closed behind her. Mihyun and Seunghee exchange a weighted look, and then Seunghee makes to follow her.  
  
Yoobin stops her. “I’ll do it.”  
  
Seunghee shakes her head. “I’m the leader.”  
  
Yoobin presses two palms against Seunghee’s shoulders. “We're friends.” Yoobin is lying: she does this now, lie through her teeth. Seunghee cocks her head. "We're the same age."  
  
Before Seunghee can protest, Yoobin is out the door.

 

  
  
She finds Jiho in the bathroom, splashing water onto her face. Yoobin has seen the other groups - they're making progress and have moved to the vocal room to try out their lines. They've been stuck here for the past 8 hours, caught up in the first minute of the song.  
  
It’s a miracle that Seunghee hasn’t lost her cool yet, and Yoobin isn’t planning to either.  
  
But this is the only place without cameras, and Yoobin hates that it tempts her.  
  
“I’ll be out soon,” Jiho says, without looking up. Her expression is, as always, unreadable. Like there’s a steel wall between them. It’s frustrating.  
  
“Hey,” Yoobin placates, stepping closer to the sink beside Jiho’s. “It’s okay if you can’t get it immediately. Let’s just take it slow.”  
  
Jiho flings her hands down at the sink then, water spraying every which way. She brings her head up to look at Yoobin.  
  
“Take what slow?” Jiho’s tone is derisive, coloured with frustration. “Take it slow so I can embarrass myself as the center?”  
  
“That not what I-”  
  
“So what _did_ you mean, Yoobin?”  
  
Yoobin swallows around a mouthful of air.  
  
“I didn’t mean that. I don’t want to embarrass you. Not for our team but because I care - about you.” _You're lying_ , Yoobin thinks. But she's not - doesn't feel like she is, and Jiho - Jiho’s eyes flit from her face to a space behind her, her face going slack.  
  
Mihyun’s voice breaks uncomfortably loud through the silence that follows. “Just wondering if you guys were okay.”  
  
  
  
Jiho nails the move after another hour. Seunghee lets out something like a sigh of victory, and Yoobin catches Shiah looking over from the other side of the room.  
  
When she does, Yoobin sees, for the first time, something different in Jiho’s expression. It’s the same, of course, as it’s always been, but it’s as if something was made clear in the washroom earlier. That Jiho is as scared as Yoobin is.

Later, when Jiho hands her a bottle of water, the motion is gentle.  
  
It speaks louder than anything else that night.

-

  
Yebin finds her while they’re washing up.  
  
They’ve agreed to 12:40, every night on the dot, so Yoobin breaks into a smile when Yebin enters, toiletries in hand.  
  
“How was your practice?”  
  
Yebin looks down at the floor. Yoobin notices the bangs plastered to her forehead and lets out a laugh.  
  
“Tiring,” Yebin states the obvious. “You?” Yebin’s expression brightens suddenly, and she bounds closer to Yoobin, latching onto her shoulders. Yoobin has to jam her foot against the floor so the people in front of her don't topple like dominoes.  
  
“How’s Jiho? She’s nice, isn’t she? Funny and caring, and-”  
  
Yebin stops talking when she registers the look on Yoobin’s face. “I guess…not?”  
  
Yoobin pauses for a long moment, glances back to see if Jiho has entered. There’s no one from her company, either.  
  
“I guess it’s getting a bit overwhelming,” she says. “For all of us.”

-

  
Seunghee’s gamble pays off.  
  
Jiho steals over a hundred votes, and they win by a landslide. Jiho’s sitting next to Yoobin when the results are announced, and her hand closes hard - clamps, really - over Yoobin’s. It’s trembling. Yoobin runs a careful finger down the side of Jiho's hand, and the other girl lets out a short breath, all she will allow herself.  
  
Shiah sighs softly from the other side of the room, riling her team up in a final cheer.  
  
“Hey,” Yoobin says, quietly. Jiho tips her chin up after a while, when they’re being shooed away to make way for the next group. “You did it.”  
  
Jiho leans into the circle they've formed. "We," she corrects, and her smile - not for the cameras, just for the three of them - is simple. Yoobin feels her heart snap, like a rubber band, and fall lax inside her chest.  
  
  
  
Yoobin watches Yebin’s __Hot Issue__  team flatline against the other. Yebin has improved so much already, of course, but it's just not enough to be the big story of the night.  
  
There’s a girl on the other team that no one was looking out for - Choi Yewon - who's a revelation. Yoobin isn't quite sure what it is about her that gets the crowd going, but they don't stop even when the two teams exit stage right, exploding in whistles and shouts.  
  
Yebin walks into the room with her head down, but brightens when she sees Yoobin. Choi Yewon stumbles in behind her, her expression a mix of confusion and accomplishment. Jiho reaches out a hand for her and Yewon plops down beside Jiho, into Yoobin's empty seat.She's seen them together around before, but everything is in a different hue now - Jiho and Yewon, masters of the audience, drawers of crowds.  
  
“You did so well,” Yebin says, and then looks over to where Jiho is, parked between Yoonji and Hyejin. “All of you.”  
  
Yoobin pulls Yebin into a hug as someone hits a high note on-stage.

The crowd and room bursts into applause, and Yoobin just squeezes tighter.

 

 

* * *

 ** **WEEK FOUR:** ** __Do you have any rivals here_ _ ****?** **

* * *

  
She loses Yebin in the first eliminations.  
  
Yoobin is sitting in the #24 chair, hoping and wishing that the last name would be hers, but it doesn’t sound like hers, and the music goes off, and Yoobin wants to cry but she shouldn’t.  
  
A hand lands on her shoulder, light, without pressure. Yoobin pulls at it instinctively, but the face that meets hers isn’t Yebin’s.  
  
“Oh,” Yoobin gasps. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment mixed with sorrow is a first, and it sits uncomfortably in Yoobin’s gut.  
  
Jiho’s cheeks have turned a faint pink close-up, accentuated by the spotlight, but she shakes it off quickly and pulls at Yoobin’s hand, gesturing at the open stage below.  
  
“Yebin’s waiting,” she tells her. Yebin’s standing at the foot of the pyramid, waving at Yoobin. She's still smiling, as Yoobin had expected, eyes wet with tears. Her Yebin.  
  
“Thanks,” Yoobin says distractedly, blood rushing to her fingertips.

-

  
When they get back to the dorms, Yoobin helps to pack up Yebin’s clothes, folding them into neat piles on the bed, pausing every so often to wipe angrily at her eyes. The film of regret has settled upon Yoobin - she should have done more, should have pushed harder, should have created drama, _something_ -  
  
Yebin is staring at her quietly, hands folded across her lap.  
  
"You couldn't have done anything, you know?"

Yoobin ignores her.

“You’re not gonna help me?”  
  
Yebin shrugs, flopping down onto the sheets and messing up some of the piles of clothing, which earns a yelp from Yoobin. “I’ll just ruin your perfect system,”  
  
Yoobin tries to laugh, but it’s only tears that come out instead. She hates that this hysteria has come upon her in waves, angrily and wildly, now that she remembers that she'll be alone. Soon Yebin’s sitting down beside her, thumbs working at her tears.  
  
“You’re going to be okay,” she tells her. “You’re the kindest, and bravest, and most talented person I know.”  
  
“You must know very few people,” Yoobin tries to protest, but hiccups instead, and Yebin starts laughing so loud that her roommates stick their heads in to check what’s going on.  
  
“Promise me you'll make it to the end,” Yebin tries, very carefully.  
  
Yoobin doesn't respond, just buries her face into Yebin's shirt.  
  
"Yoobin," the other girl chides, cradling her face in her hands. It feels like this has happened before, except the roles are reversed now. But Yebin doesn't say _I'm sorry for leaving you alone_ , and Yoobin knows she doesn't have to be.  
  
"I'll try," Yoobin accedes, finally. She can't bring herself to promise anything more. Yebin takes their hands and hooks Yoobin's pinky with her own.  
  
  
  
By morning, Yebin is gone.

-

  
To Yoobin's chagrin, the competition roars on.

They go for their morning run, warm up at vocal practice, and are released for lunch at 12:30.  
  
Jiho joins Yoobin and Seunghee at their table. They have another pre-competition sorting later, which could involve lots of running, so all that’s on their trays are salad and small packets of milk. Yoonji had experienced a horrible stomachache the last time, and she'd warned everyone else against repeating her mistake.  
  
Yoonji is with her, and Yoobin looks around for the third girl - Hyejin.  
  
“She left yesterday,” Yoonji tells her, lips quirking up in a faint smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.  
  
Jiho stiffens at this, and Yoobin looks down at the older girl's fingers, which have tightened around her cutlery.  
  
“That’s okay!” Yoonji says, a little too cheerily. “We’ll keep representing her!”  
  
Jiho still doesn’t speak, staring down at her salad. There’s a moment where Yoobin feels like Jiho will finally say something to her, but she just stands up instead, tray in hand.  
  
“I’m not hungry.”  
  
“Jiho,” Yoonji chides, but Jiho’s already pushing the chair back and heading back to the counter.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Yoonji says, watching her go, one knee pushed out of the square of her chair, prepared to follow. “She’s not usually like this. Just give her some time to cool off.”  
  
Yoobin clocks the small of Jiho’s back as she heads out the door, leaving it swinging behind her.  
  
“She’s also always hungry,” Yoonji whispers conspiratorially, hand cupped around the side of her mouth. She packs some of her salad into a disposable bag, gobbles the rest down quickly.  
  
If Jiho is winter, Yoonji has, for the brief moments Yoobin's had the chance to speak to her, been the warmest days of spring. In some other life, they could have been friends. As Yoonji's eyes curve into moons and she scoops more nuts onto Yoobin's plate, Yoobin thinks maybe it'd be possible in this one, too.

-

  
The next mission is something like Yoobin’s worst nightmare. Rap is out, for sure, but #24 doesn’t give her good standing against anyone and the spots are filling up fast.  
  
Junghwa, the junior assistant PD, prepares her with a _three, two, one_ before the camera lights flicker on. Yoobin remembers Junghwa - she had slipped her a quick word before she pretended to break the camera, urging Yoobin to act the way she was supposed to. Yoobin had complied then - thankful, worried, dishonest. But it was fine, right? To fight dishonesty with the same.  
  
**Q: What did you feel at that moment?**  
A: Dread? I’d say something like that. ** **  
****__  
__ **Q: Why?**  
I’m not that good at anything. But I made Yebin a promise.  
  
**Q: A promise to what?**  
To make it to the end. [pause] Or at least to try.

-

  
Yoobin chooses dance in the end. It's a difficult choice - she's never heard the song before, much less seen a performance - but Shiah's standing at the front of the line and Yoobin trusts very few people or things more than she does Shiah's ability to make something extraordinary.

 

-

  
When she takes a break and heads off to the water cooler, someone in a familiar jacket is already there. It’s a radioactive blue, shiny enough that Yoobin would spot her anywhere.  
  
“Hi,” Yoobin says.  
  
Jiho whips around quickly, bottle in hand. “Oh,” she says, when she sees Yebin, the tension in her limbs fading. Yoobin watches her fingers flex instinctively, nails dragging against the seams of her jeans. “It's you.”  
  
“How’s it going?”  
  
Jiho lets Yoobin use the cooler, leans back against the wall beside it as she watches Yoobin jam her palm against the lever thrice before water starts trickling out.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jiho admits. “I’m still kind of shit.”  
  
Yoobin looks up in surprise.  
  
“You’re not,” she says, without thinking, and Jiho’s expression sours.  
  
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jiho says dismissively. Her tone is nonchalant but her eyes are worried, eyebags heavy underneath them.  
  
“Hey,” Yoobin says, and she doesn’t know if it’s the tiredness or the time they’ve spent together, but Jiho melts into the fingers around her wrist and the barrier drops for a moment, so all Yoobin can see is a scared 19 year old girl. That's why she says something stupid after that, before she can stop herself, with Jiho's big eyes pinned on her and the weight of all of this suddenly flooding in, bringing a blurry sort of clarity in its wake.  
  
“You’re not alone, okay? I won’t let you be.”  
  
Jiho’s eyes flicker at this. Yoobin holds her breath - one, two, three, four, five -  
  
It’s the first time Yoobin’s ever seen Jiho cry, and it’s here, in front of this water cooler, at 4 am in the morning, Yoobin's hands are limp from practice, weak as they fall onto the other girl's shoulders.

-

  
Here's how it goes: Yoobin is waiting backstage, up on one of the dressers with her thigh pressed against the mirror, when Jiho takes the stage. Even from here Yoobin can see the way her hands shake as she looks at the thousand-strong crowd, and then back down at the floor.  
  
When the music starts, she taps her foot incessantly, closing her eyes every few seconds and holding them closed for too long. She’s nervous and stumbles over her words, but Yoobin imagines that there will be something endearing about it. Jiho has gotten so much lighter in the past week, more open, and hard-working, and happier. It's something anyone could pick up on, and that everyone would vote for, shaky notes be damned.  
  
Right before the chorus, leading into Seunghee's glory note, Jiho drags out her last syllable. It's clear and bright, better than anything she'd eked out in the rehearsals.  
  
The camera pans out on Jiho's smile.

-

  
Jiho sits down beside her first, Yoonji streaming in to settle down somewhere behind them.  
  
“How was I?”  
  
Yoobin peels open two packet of bread and hands them to Jiho and Yoonji. Jiho bites into it gratefully, then recoils. “This is banana.”  
  
“You were good,” Yoobin tells her.  
  
“I hate banana.”  
  
“They’ll love you,” Yoobin says.  
  
“Pass me the chocolate, please." Yoobin palms it over. It says __proud sponsors of Produce 101__ on the back in bright pink print. There's a silhouette of a girl in the top right of the packaging, and Jiho tears through her without hesitation.  
  
“Thank you,” Jiho says.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Yoobin says, and Jiho smiles. It starts slow but reaches her eyes eventually, and she turns to look at Yoobin for a moment.  
  
Only a moment.

 

 

* * *

 **WEEK FIVE:** _Cost-Benefit_

* * *

 

  
At the second round of eliminations, Yoobin somehow feels better than she had in the previous one. It’s a big prize, of course, but Yoobin had filed it away in the _nice to have, don’t desperately want_ folder in her brain a long time ago.  
  
Yebin's waiting for her to come back.  
  
_Yebin's waiting for you to win_ , a little voice in her head points out, but Yoobin tamps it down as Yoonji's strong voice cuts through the haze.  
  
“Nervous?”  
  
Yoobin shrugs. “Nothing to lose, right?”  
  
Yoonji cracks a smile, and Yoobin’s stomach erupts in butterflies.

-

  
There was something to lose after all.  
  
Seunghee was standing on the platform with Mihyun, fighting for the last spot. Yoobin was sure that she would be safe after her performance, sure that Yoobin would go before she did, but this competition has been messed up from the beginning.  
  
The lights go out on Seunghee.

-

  
Yoobin runs out of the hall the moment the music plays. It's stupid and impulsive, of course, but she's spent weeks and weeks being _intelligent_ and _rational_ and _good_ \- She doesn’t even go down to where Seunghee is waiting, fingers twined with Mihyun’s, just runs as far as her legs can carry her.  
  
Someone finds her in the stairwell, but Yoobin doesn’t look up, just buries her head further against her arm.  
  
“We have to film the closing,” the voice says. Yoobin doesn’t want to. There’s probably staff behind Jiho even now, filming her disgrace. Her immaturity.  
  
“Yoobin,” Jiho tries. She doesn’t sound impatient, just imploring.  
  
“Just film it without me. No one’s gonna notice.”  
  
“Are you coming or not?”  
  
“I said I’m not,” Yoobin snaps. Her voice resounds across the stairwell walls. When she looks up, Jiho’s the only person there, staring down at her.  
  
Jiho’s mouth twists, then, in what must be annoyance. “I expected better from you,” she says, and turns to leave.

-

  
Yoobin doesn’t get more than a simple reprimand from the PDs.  
  
They keep her until a late dinner and remind her that a future infarction means trouble, but she gets to go back to her bunk by 11.  
  
Jiho is waiting outside her door when she arrives.  
  
Yoobin side-steps her, but Jiho moves ahead of her again.  
  
“What’s your damage?”  
  
“Don’t do that again,” Jiho says, quietly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Things that could get you disqualified. Don’t do them.”  
  
Yoobin is tired from the meeting with the PDs, and tired from how Seunghee is gone and she couldn’t even say goodbye, and tired from Jiho choosing now, of all times, to act like she exists.  
  
“What’s it to you?”  
  
“You said,” Jiho takes a breath, then. “You said you wouldn’t leave me alone.”  
  
Jiho’s eyes are searching, open and trusting, and Yoobin hates it.  
  
“Did you tell them not to pick up?”  
  
“What,” Jiho says. Yoobin’s vision blurs, but she blinks it away.  
  
“Your parents. You faked it, right?”  
  
“I-” Jiho says. “Yes, but that was at the start-”  
  
“Jiho, just- leave me alone, okay?"  
  
Jiho’s hand drops from where it was on Yoobin’s wrist, wincing like she’s been slapped. Maybe it’s worse, Yoobin thinks. But Jiho made a mistake, trusting her.  
  
Yoobin was stupid for thinking she could take on anyone’s burdens.  
  
Jiho's voice is unnaturally loud when she speaks again, almost childish, a crack in her veneer. “What I did has nothing to do with-”  
  
“Kim Jiho, what a pretty girl,” Yoobin says. She’ll regret this in the morning, but for now it’s cathartic, almost, to watch the warmth slide off Jiho’s face. All of them have taken Seunghee’s place - Seunghee, who’s been working for it since she was 10. Jiho’s still here, sitting pretty in the top 10. Yoobin’s still here, scraping through on Shiah’s coattails. “You’re a lucky charm, Jiho. Everyone who gets in your good books lives to see another day. The PDs love you. Everyone who helps you is guaranteed a gold-star edit.”  
  
Yoobin sees the twist of hurt, bare and apparent on Jiho’s face, before it’s caged in again by something colder. She's looking straight through Yoobin, and then her gaze falls to the floor at her feet.  
  
“I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

 

 

 

* * *

 ** **WEEK SIX:** ** __Playing the right cards_ _

* * *

 

  
Yoonji shoots Yoobin a dirty look as Yoobin settles a few chairs to her right. Her dance team is clustered in the first few rows, fresh off the performance that won them a landslide victory.  
  
Yoobin certainly deserves it, but the world keeps spinning and the voters keep voting and Yoobin has a promise to keep, so she cants her gaze away, stares straight at the screen in front of them.  
  
It's an original song contest this time, and Yoobin's mind is whirring as they play the demos, calculating, projecting. It's a tie between two songs for her before one by a composer named Choi Hyojung, hailing from Deep Blue Entertainment, plays.  
  
Yoobin knows from the first few notes that this is it. She feels it in the hollow of her chest, more than this competition and more than the weight of votes, that she wants to win or lose with this song.

  
-

  
When Yoobin presses the door open, she can feel Jiho's gaze on her and stops, the tip of her shoe wedged against the metal of the frame.  
  
She'd confided in Mihyun the previous night, and Mihyun had held her hands and urged that she should apologize. Jiho turns her face away, and Yoobin feels a kind of horrid anger in her gut, unbidden and unwanted, but it stirs even as she takes a seat furthest from Jiho, though just near enough to avoid suspicion.  
  
Hyeri, who'd risen to the top of the vocal game in the previous round, ticks through the list of roles quickly. Sub-vocal 1 and 2 are always the least contested, and Yoobin is tired enough to volunteer for one. All eyes in the room turn to her - she'll be hidden at the back for quite a bit.  
  
"It's fine," Yoobin says, aware that she's playing a dangerous game if they decide not to air this.  
  
"Okay then," Hyeri says.  
  
"Now, sub-vocal 2?"  
  
"I'll do it," a voice says.  
  
There's a short silence following the fact. Jiho has only ever taken the center role, and everyone in the room is aware of the fact. Yoobin can hear Junghwa scribbling on her notepad behind her, taking note to pay special attention to this part of the tape.  
  
"I don't mind-" Yewon, the people's favourite girl from Jellyfish Entertainment cuts in, but Jiho shoots her a look so severe that the end of her statement whittles away into a stammer.  
  
Hyeri presses her palms to her kneecaps, deep in thought. Yoobin counts a good 10 seconds before she speaks again. "Okay," she says, finally. "I'll trust you."

  
-

  
Practice is less tense than Yoobin had imagined.  
  
Jiho's taken whatever ill-will she's feeling towards Yoobin and channeled it into dancing into the night, long after any of them have the strength to anymore. They're just - existing like this, separately and competently.  
  
Still, when Yewon picks up her backpack to leave for the dorms, Yoobin scurries behind her, fumbling with the clasp of her bag.  
  
"Leaving me alone?" Jiho asks, while Yewon's gone to use the washroom and Yoobin's fingers are curled around the door handle. It's the first time she's spoken directly to Yoobin since - since then, and Yoobin doesn't quite know how to react, the camera to her left trained directly on her profile.  
  
She places her bag back on the floor, walking over to where Jiho is, pulling her into a hug and leaning close enough that no mics would pick anything up. Jiho stiffens.  
  
"Let's not do this here," Yoobin whispers, and Jiho lets out a derisive laugh.  
  
Her voice is canted equally low when she returns, "don't you want to show them how much you care about me?"  
  
"Jiho," Yoobin bites, exhaustion slipping into her voice. "I-" she says, and swallows back the apology. She doesn't know why she does it, but Jiho steps back then, out of her grasp before she can change her mind.  
  
"I got it," Jiho says, loudly this time. "You're helping me to learn I have to do things on my own, right? You've helped me __so__  much."  
  
Yoobin hasn't met anyone more frustrating. "Jiho-"  
  
"Thank you for your help," Jiho whips back to face the mirror, her ponytail hanging loosely from her hair-tie. "Rest well."  
  
Yoobin lingers for a beat, then two, but Jiho has gone back to practicing her opening steps, the one where she has to turn before falling on her knees. This role was made for a better dancer than Jiho can force herself to be in the span of a week, but Jiho is - Jiho, and the bruises will do nothing to stop her.  
  
"See you tomorrow," Yoobin says, and turns to leave.

  
-

  
Yoobin wakes up in cold sweat, gripping the cold metal of her bed frame. The clock on the wall reads 3:00am in fluorescent letters - only two hours have passed. They''ve all moved into the same room for convenience, and when Yoobin looks over, Jiho's bed is still empty, the moonlight illuminating enough to reveal covers pushed to the foot of the bed.  
  
She lies in bed for a while, blinking at the black grail in front of her and the fabric of the mattress that's pressed against it. Hyeri is snoring.  
  
Finally, she braces a palm against the floor and rolls out, dusting herself off. Yoobin has taken to sleeping in day clothes so she won't be caught off guard, so she heads straight for the door, closing it carefully before heading back to the practice room.

  
-

  
Theirs is the only room with the lights still on.  
  
Jiho is huddled in a corner, a jacket thrown lazily over her and her knees drawn up to her chest. As Yoobin had predicted, the room has gotten chillier with fewer people. She rubs at her arms quickly as she draws nearer to Jiho's form, and Jiho is - shaking.  
  
"Hey," Yoobin says, stumbling to where she is. Jiho's hands are warm, and Yoobin presses the back of her hand to Jiho's forehead.  
  
__Don't panic__ ,  
  
But her hands are shaking and Jiho's lips are so pale they've turned almost white, and the cameraman's knocked off the for the day-  
  
"Jiho," Yoobin urges, cupping a hand to her face, and Jiho seems to bristle at the contact. "You have to wake up, we have to get you to the staff."  
  
Jiho pries her eyes open, bleary at first before she focuses on Yoobin's face, inches away from her own. Without thinking, she kicks away, into the corner, further away from Yoobin. Stubborn even now.  
  
" _Jiho_ ," Yoobin says, careful to keep her voice measured even if she feels like she might just erupt in exasperation. "If you don't come with me, our team will be missing a member. You'll be dragging us down."  
  
Jiho's eyes flicker up then, unguarded again, and Yoobin's breath catches.  
  
She makes a small noise of assent - Yoobin panics _ _-_ if this is the best you can do, if you can't even bite back -_  
  
She tamps the thought down and takes a deep breath, wrapping Jiho's legs around her waist with her hands.

"Hold on tight."

  
-

  
They've gotten an IV drip in her arm and her fever has subsided, turned into mild warmth against Yoobin's palm.  
  
The production staff left Yoobin with a disposable phone - with instructions to call when Jiho wakes up - and disappeared, probably to prepare for the new day.  
  
She's pressing the back of her hand to Jiho's forehead for what feels like the tenth time when Jiho coughs, softly. Yoobin's hand shoots back to her side, pressed against her hip. Jiho doesn't stir after that, so Yoobin pads back to the cramped foldable chair next to her bed, thinking about all the sleep she needs and isn't getting.  
  
The first thing Jiho says when she can speak is _recording_ , and Yoobin startles from the slumber she's fallen into, her elbow slipping off the edge of the small bedside table. She manages to catch herself before any nasty bruise can bloom on her face.  
  
"Today," Jiho rasps. "Recording."  
  
Yoobin can't help huffing in exasperation, annoyance. Affection.  
  
"Want some water?"  
  
Jiho pins Yoobin with a long look, like she's weighing between her thirst and dignity. That's until a nurse emerges from behind Yoobin, drawing the curtain back. Yoobin clutches, involuntarily, at her heart, and the smile that splits across Jiho's face doesn't escape her notice.  
  
"Miss Kim," the nurse plods into the room, attaching her pen to her clipboard. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Sorry for bothering you," Jiho says, smiling in that guileless way, "I was just wondering when I'd be able to leave?"  
  
The nurse makes a show of checking her vitals and the patient report she has on her clipboard.  
  
"Doctor's instructions are that you can go once you wake up, but no strenuous activity for 18 hours. Can you do that, Ms Kim?"  
  
Yoobin has her doubts, but Jiho nods vigorously, lifting her hand gingerly as if to confirm that she'll be careful. Yoobin can't fight the smile that forces its way onto her face.

-

  
Jiho doesn't dance for the rest of the day, but Yoobin feels her eyes on her back most of the time, only snapping away when Yoobin turns or when their gazes meet in the mirror.  
  
Yoobin naps during the lunch break, too tired to queue for food. Barely 30 minutes in, she feels a tap on her shoulder, a lunch box shoved in front of her face.  
  
"Special favour from JungJung-oppa," Jiho tells her, pressing the box harder into her lap, the plastic lid of the container caving in.  
  
"Jiho," Yoobin begins, because there's nothing she hates more than this - she'll do a lot of things, but she won't take unfair advantages.  
  
"I told him you took care of me and didn't have time to sleep." Jiho straightens, hands plunging into the pockets of her jacket. "It's not a lie."  
  
Yoobin sighs. "Have you eaten?"  
  
The colour is returning to Jiho's face, which fills Yoobin with much more relief than she'd like to admit. Jiho nods once, sticking her tongue out as if to let Yoobin inspect it.  
  
Yoobin blanches. "I'll take your word for it."  
  
Jiho smiles, then. It's still guarded but softer, like something about what transpired in the morning had chipped away at the clouds hanging over their heads.  
  
Yoobin falls back asleep, arm curled over the lunch box.

-

  
Choi Hyojung is _so, so_  nice. Yoobin has a hard time believing she's so _young_ , newly recruited and fresh-faced.  
  
Hyojung has been watching their show, she says, _avidly_ , and everyone in the room falls into an embarrassed sort of silence, which makes Hyojung break out in awkward laughter, and it's - it's nice, somehow. Yoobin doesn't feel the need to impress her as much as she wants to do justice to the song, and Hyojung tilts her head up, then, her fingers on the button, an air of assurance coming over her.  
  
  
  
Yoobin struggles with her part. It's not difficult, really, but Hyojung isn't quite happy with it though she doesn't really say it, so Yoobin stumbles out of the recording room, dissatisfaction rising in her chest.  
  
"Yoobin-ssi," Hyojung comes over to her during the break, placing a hand over Yoobin's clenched fist. Yoobin unfurls it immediately, surprised that she'd clenched it at all. "Let's try again later, alright? I believe in you."  
  
Yoobin's eyes flit over to where Jiho's seated, mulling over her three lines, like some sort of horrible malfunctioning one-way magnet. Hyojung is looking at her expectantly when she shakes herself out of it, smiling - kindly, somehow - as if she knows something Yoobin doesn't.  
  
"Do it for your team," Hyojung urges.  
  
Yoobin wants to say _I'm trying_ , but it feels very much inadequate. The words lodge in her throat.  
  
She settles for "thank you" instead.

-

  
The other trainees return with high praises of their songs and about the amazing production teams and the five senior producers who gathered in their studios, and Yoobin is - Yoobin should be scared out of her mind, really, but she feels nothing until Jiho steps beside her, and their fingers brush, and -  
  
Something heavy beneath her ribs bursts like fireworks.

-

  
The ride to the venue is muted. One person from the _Do Better_  team had to squeeze in their van because there was a miscommunication, and it's just - weird now, everyone tangled in these friendships and heavy under the knowledge that 13 people are going home just like that, that everything's riding on this.  
  
This is so messed up.  
  
  
  
Jiho falls asleep minutes into the journey, head lolling onto Yoobin's shoulder.  
  
The rift between them is still healing, but somewhere between the time Yoobin found Jiho in the practice room and now, Yoobin has become hyper-aware of Jiho, like something very much like realization has settled upon her shoulders.  
  
But this isn't the time to think about this, so Yoobin just - doesn't.

She's always been excellent at running.

-

  
Hyeri calls them into a last hurrah backstage. Yoobin places her hand somewhere in the middle of the pile, blood rushing through her ears. This is all they can count on, in the end. The wild adrenaline that takes over even when Yoobin feels like running away.  
  
The venue is so close to her home, just a bus ride away. Chuncheon isn't that big.  
  
"Hey," a voice says from behind them, and their team turns around. Hyojung is standing there, a box of donuts in hand.  
  
"Ssem!"  
  
Hyojung laughs. "I told you guys not to call me that."  
  
She beckons them closer, and they squeeze into a circle around her. "I snuck these in for you guys - for after the performance, of course." She pauses contemplatively. "Whatever happens, I'm so thankful that you gave my song a chance. I hope it carries you places, and I'm sorry I couldn't do more."  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Yoobin sees Yewon - awkward and beautiful and funny Yewon - smile, wide and assured and proud, and Yoobin lets out a long breath and thinks _okay_ , plants her feet firm on the ground.  
  
Okay.

-

  
Nothing will prepare her for the crowd of 2,500 people. Yoobin's legs nearly turn to jelly as she heads for her position, realizes she must look silly, scuttling over.  
  
In front of her, Jiho bristles, planting her feet apart, and then she extends her hand backwards, fingers stretched out, waiting.  
  
"What are you doing?" Yoobin wants to ask.  
  
Jiho reaches back further, then, fingers prodding the fabric blanketing Yoobin's stomach.  
  
__Oh__.  
  
Yoobin grasps her hand, and it's slippery with sweat, but still steady, Jiho's grip strong.  
  
_Standby_ , the voice in Yoobin's ear readies. She closes her eyes.

-

  
They ask for an encore.  
  
The first thing Yoobin thinks is that maybe she'll survive another round, the second that maybe Yebin can hope a little more, and then everything gets swept away with one thought: that Jiho is here with her, and smiling so wide and bright and blinding, and it's the most beautiful thing Yoobin's ever seen.  
  
She thinks of Hyojung later, when they're stumbling down the metal stairs, Hyeri's hands on her shoulder, shaking as she herds them off stage. She's ashamed that the thought comes so late when Hyojung accosts them with donuts and coffee and hugs.  
  
Jiho is staring out into the distance at nothing in particular, as if she thinks this is a dream, only snaps out of it when Yoonji jumps on her, arms slung around her neck, smiling and yelling and _celebrating_.

-

  
At night, Jiho hooks an arm with Yoobin's, intercepting her while she's heading back to her room. Shiah throws them a questioning look but heads her own way.  
  
Jiho bounces on her balls of her feet, pulls them out into the stairwell.  
  
"It's 3 a.m.," Yoobin chides, but is powerless to resist.  
  
"Let's play a game," Jiho says, already settling down on the top step. "I'll tell you a story, and you tell me one."  
  
Yoobin bristles. "I'm not good at stories."  
  
"You'll find inspiration somewhere," Jiho says, in the tone she uses which means she expects no protests. "I'll start."  
  
Yoobin looks down at her bunny pants, gathers up the threads that have started to unravel at the seams and twines them around her fingers. Sleep is tugging at her eyelids.  
  
"There was a girl once," Jiho starts, "and she really wanted to sing. But her parents weren't that supportive, and it was difficult for her."  
  
Yoobin snaps to attention, eyes searching Jiho's face. Jiho is staring at her lap, eyes welling up with tears. "So she took a train by herself, to Seoul. It was pretty scary, but a dream is a dream, right?"  
  
"Jiho-" Yoobin says, softly.  
  
"And it turned out that her instructors didn't really believe in her, either, but she just thought it'd be okay if she kept trying, and there were things she was good at, like languages, and being pretty. I mean, it was okay if she couldn't quite dance or sing, she could always improve on those things, right? But they thought she couldn't do it, so they just sent her on a survival show with a couple of their _good_ trainees, see what the public would see in her."  
  
Yoobin is sitting ramrod straight, and it's like she's seeing Jiho for the first time, the girl she was and is and is going to be.  
  
"After that - after that -" Jiho says, and stutters. "You tell me what happened after that."  
  
Jiho's looking at her but not really, gaze flickering over Yoobin's face like she's scared of what Yoobin will say.  
  
_After that _,__ Yoobin thinks _ _,_ she met someone who would do anything for her even if she didn't quite know it yet_.  
  
Yoobin swallows, instead, pressing her hand to Jiho's thigh. "She bloomed," Yoobin says, simply. With finality.  
  
Jiho turns away, hands lifting to cover her face.

 

 

* * *

****WEEK EIGHT**** ****:** ** _Goodbye and thank you._

* * *

 

  
The votes everyone has been getting each week is _astronomical_ , and Yoobin has added the numbers again and again - the benefit won't be enough. She hopes Yebin is proud of her anyway.  
  
It's only her, now, strolling slowly into the hall. She flashes a smile for the cameras and makes a heart that Hyeri had taught her with her arms, curving up above her head. Hyeri laughs from somewhere in the stands, and Yoobin smiles too, heading for her seat.  
  
There are so few chairs, there must be no more than 40, and it hits Yoobin, all of a sudden. How far she's come.  
  
She's ready to leave.  
  
  
  
Yoonji is between the two of them again, and she's wearing the same smile she's always worn, filed down at the edges with worry.  
  
Yoonji hadn't done so well in the last challenge, flubbed a high note she'd had no trouble with before. The nerves get to all of them, but Yoonji still blames herself for costing her team a victory.  
  
"Nervous?" Yoobin asks, a small smile on her face.  
  
This startles a laugh out of Yoonji, a much-needed one, and Yoonji smiles. "Nothing to lose, right?"  
  
"Nothing to lose," Yoobin echoes, gaze flitting to where Jiho is seated, staring straight ahead.

-

  
Yoobin doesn't really know what to think, when it comes down to it. It's surreal standing on the platform next to Mihyun, Mihyun who's endured so much only to end up here again, like the show's playing a big joke on her again and again.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Yoobin says, even before the results are announced. Yoobin will be sorry either way: that Mihyun even had to stand here in the first place, or worse, that she'll be taking Mihyun's place.  
  
When they call her name, Yoobin breaks down into tears. It's a long, horrible moment where she sinks to her knees, _selfish, selfish, selfish_  because she has to take away from Mihyun's moment even now.

-

  
"Yoobin," Jiho says, and the world rushes into view again, slowly and blearily. Jiho's hands are steady against her jaw and Jiho is kneeling down in front of her, waiting for her to look up.  
  
"Hey," Jiho tries again, and it's the gentlest Jiho has ever been and it makes Yoobin want to cry all over again. Yoobin hates that she's still aware of the cameras, hates that she has to get up on one foot and fight against the fresh wave of confusion that threatens to overwhelm her.  
  
"It's my fault," Yoobin breathes against Jiho's chest, and Jiho says nothing at all.

 

 

 

* * *

 ** **WEEK NINE:** ** __Chuncheon__

* * *

 

  
Jiho doesn't leave Yoobin's side the first two days.  
  
Everything seems to pass in a blur - the photoshoots, the rehearsals, the dance practices. Yoobin is so tired of playing this game that she can barely get herself to move from place to place, guided only by Jiho's insistent hands, fingers laced with her own.  
  
Even the instructors seem not to know what to do with her - their hardworking student who's turned to stone, who follows through the motions expertly but doesn't ask questions.  
  
It's only when Jiho is gone, off to run and errand, only when Yoobin trips over what seems to be thin air that Hyeri comes to her, wrath in her voice, fingers curling around Yoobin's collar, that Yoobin's can see clearly for the first time, like she's coming up for air.  
  
Hyeri is yelling something but Yoobin can't seem to hear anything other than __waste__ , and she nods, and Hyeri is just getting even louder until someone comes to pry her off, and Yoobin has fallen to the floor again, vision swimming.  
  
She hears it faintly - the sound of Jiho's voice calling her name, the rattle of footsteps against the floor - before everything turns to black.

-

  
Yoobin wakes up to a deep voice rattling off medical symptoms. When she pries her eyes open, she can see her manager in the corner of her vision. He's nodding furiously, sparing glances her way every few seconds before he registers that she's awake, rushing forward to her side.  
  
"Yah, Bae Yoobin," his voice is a nervous lilt, his fingers strong around her wrists. "Why didn't you tell me you had all these things? Sleep apnea is bad enough, but you can just pass out in the day too? When did you think you could-"  
  
"What," Yoobin struggles to say. Her mouth feels like sandpaper. "I didn't - I hadn't -"  
  
"You need rest," he tells her, and Yoobin shakes her head almost immediately.  
  
"The finals-"  
  
"You'll catch up later," he speaks with an air of finality, but Yoobin can change his mind - if she could just show him - she presses back on her palms to foist up from her bed, but the moment she does her head seizes with a searing ache. She plops back down onto her back. __Damn__.  
  
"I arranged with the teacher, and we agreed that you'd be allowed to record separately too. They're doing you a big favour, Yoobin."  
  
_What if I just don't? What if I just go home?_  
  
Yoobin stares for a long moment at the white ceiling.  
  
"Do you think I deserve a spot?"  
  
"Hmm?" Her manager's eyes soften.  
  
"Should I even - be here at all," Yoobin asks, her voice cracking on the last syllable, and she feels pathetic, lying here after 9 weeks, still wondering about what she wants.  
  
"I think you are the kindest kid I know," her manager says. Then he tucks another pillow under her head, and sits himself down on the stool beside her bed. "Go to sleep," he insists.  
  
Despite her best efforts, Yoobin does.

-

  
Jiho is waiting for her outside her room.  
  
"I'll have to rush for the recording," Yoobin says, bustling through the door and to her bunk. Someone's tidied it up, changed the bed sheets."Hyeri," Jiho offers, as if she'd read her mind. "She cares about you, you know," Jiho says, as Yoobin drags a sling bag from under her bed. She wonders when their roles had reversed.

"I know," Yoobin replies, quietly. "I'm sorry to her."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
"I have to go," Yoobin says, whipping around to face Jiho. Suddenly, terrifyingly, they're inches apart.  
  
"You have to go," Jiho repeats, and doesn't move.  
  
"Bae Yoobin!" Someone calls, and Yoobin doesn't know if she's relieved or frustrated but she steps back, then, throwing the strap across her shoulder and bounding out the door, heart pounding inside her chest.

 

-

Jiho drags her into the stairwell the night before the finale.  
  
They haven't had time, between the rehearsals and more interviews and _more_ photoshoots - Yoobin can only say _I'm doing well, please do not worry_ so many times before she'll start to mix up the words.  
  
Now Jiho is staring at Yoobin carefully, with all the force she can. Yoobin doesn't say anything, sits in the silence and waits.  
  
"I want to debut with you," Jiho says, finally. "I know you won't do it for yourself, so I'm asking you to do it for me."  
  
Yoobin can't help the laugh she lets out. "Jiho," she starts, and then stops, looking up at the stairs above them. Above that, above the concrete and the red tiles, must be a sky full of stars.  
  
"I can't force anyone to vote for me. You know that."  
  
"You still have tomorrow. Just - be yourself." There seems to be more sitting on the tip of Jiho's tongue, but she stops there, regarding Yoobin expectantly.  
  
"And how do you know you're a shoe-in?"  
  
Jiho rolls her eyes.  
  
"We can still be friends," Yoobin tells her, the word uncomfortable in her mouth. "Even when - if - I don't make it."  
  
Jiho is silent for a long moment, so much that Yoobin thinks to prompt her. She speaks before Yoobin can.  
  
"That isn't what I want."

-

  
Later, when Jiho's standing called at number four, Yoobin lingers behind her, places a careful hand on her shoulder and nothing more. Jiho looks back at her, a beat, two, and walks up to the stage.  
  
"Thank you to the nation's producers. Thank you to -" her eyes fill up with tears, and Yoobin thinks it's unfair that she looks beautiful even then, projected on the screen above their heads. "My family. Thank you, and sorry. To the friends who've supported me from home, who've sacrificed so much time and effort for me. To the trainees who've fought alongside me all this time," Jiho says, raising a hand towards them, those who are waiting on the stage, those who are seated further away. "Please know," Jiho pauses, then, searching for something in the crowd. She stops when her eyes land on Yoobin, and she fights the urge to look away, holds Jiho's gaze. "Please know that I love you."  
  
_Oh_ , Yoobin thinks, _oh, oh, oh. _  
____  
_ That isn't what I want._

-

  
Yoobin finds Yebin onstage immediately, swinging her around in her arms. Yebin is already in tears, and Yoobin laughs so loudly she's sure she's accidentally ruined a moment.  
  
Yoobin is so happy, so happy, so happy.  
  
"I'm so proud of you," Yebin tells her, and it's been so long and she's missed her so much, and Yebin feels so very much like home.

-

  
Yoobin finds her later, in one of the hallways. Jiho is with Yoonji and Hyejin and a tall, stocky man in a large overcoat, and she brightens when she spots Yoobin.  
  
"Going anywhere?"  
  
"Back to the agency."  
  
"Do you -" Yoobin stutters. "Do you have time? Do you want to come over to Chuncheon?"  
  
Jiho looks at Yoobin for a long moment. "Yeah. Okay, let me just-"  
  
Yoobin watches as Jiho storms back to where the stocky man is, following the back and forth of the conversation she can't hear. Then Jiho's grabbing her backpack from the man and bundling towards Yoobin.  
  
"I just have to be at the company by 9am tomorrow."  
  
"I didn't mean today - it's already 12 and your family-"  
  
"It's fine," Jiho says, already pulling her along. "No more delays, I'm a busy girl!"

-

  
Yoobin brings her to the Soyang Bridge.  
  
Jiho stands in awe of the lights, spinning around with her arms out like a child. Yoobin watches her, taking everything in, this Jiho who smiles without reservation, green and blue and red lights dancing on her pale skin.

And then Jiho is reaching for her hand.

-

  
"Let's play a game," Yoobin proposes.  
  
They're leaning against the sides of the bridge, Yoobin's back protected only by a thin sheet of fabric against the chilly steel.  
  
Jiho's face is illuminated dimly under the lights, her hair swept up in bouts by the ocean breeze.  
  
"I'll tell you a story, and you tell me one."  
  
Jiho _mms_ , and maybe this is how she is, outside of the competition, outside of the pressure. This is Jiho as she is. Free.  
  
"Once there was a girl who entered a competition not quite sure what she wanted from it. Then she met this girl, who was a _little_ unfriendly and unhappy," and Yoobin pauses then, throwing a pointed look at Jiho. Jiho laughs. "But then she realized she was just - hiding. To protect herself from being hurt."

Yoobin's hand closes tentatively around Jiho's.

"And she found out that the girl was kinder, and smarter, and so much more beautiful than she would ever let herself believe." Yoobin's smiling now, another breeze whipping in. Her eyes start to tear. "What would you say happened next?"  
  
Jiho is looking at her with all the force of the world in her gaze.  
  
" _ _This__ ," Jiho says, so very softly.  
  
Jiho shuffles closer to Yoobin, close enough that Yoobin can hear the sound of her breathing. She presses feather-light fingertips to Yoobin's jaw, and leans in.

 

 

 


End file.
